


Charismatic

by BeckettSimpleton



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Conquer of Shamballa, Friendship, Gen, Post WWI Germany, World War II, pre-WWII
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6944884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckettSimpleton/pseuds/BeckettSimpleton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward and Alfons live together in Nazi Germany simply trying to get by with their heads down, but there's always a danger around the corner. You can't gain without a sacrifice, so then surely, you cannot make a sacrifice with no gain?</p><p>Originally posted on Fanfiction.Net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Charismatic

Alfons Heiderich was not lonely, he was _not_. He was just getting used to living on his own, that was all. Well, he'd lived on his own for the past year while he helped out at the warehouse building rockets. He was pretty sure that he would be getting a job there in the very near future, but just in case, he'd kept on at University.

The only thing was that now, he was in debt. He paid a small rent on his flat owned by Miss Gracia, which had not previously been an issue. His family were not by any means rich. No one was in Germany at the moment, what with no one having a job, and then the bloody war. But since his father had died at war six months ago, and he'd lost his mother to consumption in June, just last month, there was little way for him to pay his rent. His parents had paid half of it, as his job at the warehouse just didn't bring in enough money for him to pay rent and _live_. Fortunately, Miss Gracia, being the angel that she was, had insisted that he didn't have to pay his rent for as long as, either he got properly into the rocketry industry, or some other option arose. On top of that, she'd practically looked after him for the past five weeks. Bless her.

At the moment, Alfons was looking over the design for the latest rocket fuel prototype and trying to keep focused. At new face had showed up that morning at the warehouse. A tall man with glasses and long blonde hair with a beard. He had spoken to the manager and wandered around in one of the other rooms, so Alfons had never got a good look at him, but he had been waiting for him to leave so that he could have a good look, and the man had given him a very strange glare, as if he was surprised to see him, but trying not to show it. He recognised that man from somewhere, like the friend of a friend, but he couldn't think whose friend.

Alfons jumped in surprise when he heard a loud knock on the door to the shop downstairs. It was six o'clock. The shop was closed.

Alfons tried not to listen and stretched over the paper scattered across his little kitchen table and lay there like a student sleeping in a lecture. He was so lonely.

Downstairs, Gracia's voice came through the thin walls as it raised into her worried tone, and the deep voice of a large man came though. Alfons might usually have been mildly interested in the conversation, but just couldn't find himself to care. His mother was dead, Germany was in a crisis and there was a war going on. Who gave a shit about some guy downstairs?

He heard Miss Gracia's gentle knock on his door.

"Alfons? Are you busy? There's a Mr Hohenheim here who wants a word."

Alfons peeled his face away from the table and unfolded his tall frame from his chair, walking slowly towards the door. It was only when he began to open it that he realised that he was in no state to greet a stranger. His hair was probably sticking up at one side and his work shirt and trousers were rumpled from slouching over the table for so long. Not to mention that he probably looked like he hadn't slept for days.

But it was too late, because he'd already opened the door.

The man from the warehouse was standing slightly behind Miss Gracia though he looked quite terrifying this close up.

"Goodness, Alfons, you look terrible, are you okay?"

Alfons nodded. "Fine thank you. What's going on? Is something wrong with work?"

Gracia smiled at him. "No, no, this is Mister Van Hohenheim. He's um… Well he's got something to…" Gracia turned to Hohenheim for assistance, evidently not knowing if she was delivering the story correctly.

"Alfons Heiderich? I apologise for the inconvenience. This is purely coincidence. I happened to stop by your place of work earlier today, but this isn't about that. I understand your current situation in that you are struggling to um… find funds?"

Alfons panicked. How did this man know that the owed Gracia a month's rent, and who was he? This was so abrupt, no letter of warning, nothing! "Ah… I am- b-but I-"

"I'm not about to evict you or something like that in case that's what you were wondering, Mr Heiderich. In fact, I can solve your financial _issue_ in a way, but it's a two way deal."

"What is it, Mr Hohenheim?" he prompted, wondering what he was letting himself in for. He felt as if he were doing something shady and illegal for some reason, which was all the more daunting at the current state of Germany with the Nazis roaming around all over the place.

"It's about this flat. I am leaving for good in a week or so, and unfortunately I will be leaving behind my sixteen year old son Edward."

"Can't he go with you, where you're going?" Alfons asked. The man had a strange accent. His German was good, but it wasn't his first language, and didn't sound like his second either.

"No. He can't come with me, however Edward is a little… He's a bit… Odd-"

"Is he Jewish, Mr Hohenheim?" Alfons asked outright. Not that he, personally had anything against the Jews, but the last thing he needed to happen was to be caught hiding one, and that would do _no good_ for Miss Gracia either.

"No, I wouldn't ask that of you, but he does fit some other… _undesired_ categories. Anyway, if you could allow him to flat share with you for a while until he gets on his feet, I will be happy enough to fund both Edward and the rent on this flat."

"I don't mean to be rude, Mr Hohenheim, but I feel like I don't know what I'm letting myself in for here. What exactly is it about your son that is 'odd' and why is he being left behind? And where are you from? You're not German."

"I apologise, Mr Heiderich, I am being a little demanding, but you just _caught my eye_. No, I'm not German. I suppose you could say I am. I have lived here for a while. Edward has been here little over a week, however. I suppose you could say he is English. He speaks little German, and has no idea of the political situation. In fact, he may seem completely clueless, but I can assure you that he is in fact very clever.

But he refuses to socialise and is quite… depressed… might be the term. He's quite charismatic, at least. He's also quite badly… crippled, though it's not very apparent. Edward is not someone who can be summed up in a sentence, if you understand what I mean, Mr Heiderich."

Alfons nodded. "I… think I'd be happy to take him in… Can I maybe meet him first though? That is, if it's okay with Miss Gracia." He added hurriedly.

"Oh yes," she chipped it. "I thought the company might do you good too, Alfons."

The young German hid his blush. "When can I meet him?" Alfons started. "I'm-"

"Oh he's just downstairs if you want to meet him. I didn't want to leave him by himself in case he went off on a walk and got lost again."

Alfons decided not to comment on that last bit. Edward sounded as if he was not all there.

Van Hohenheim began to lead the way back downstairs, Alfons following behind Gracia. What the hell was he doing? He had been sleeping at his table only moments ago.

In the back room of Gracia's little flower shop, a startlingly blond boy was sitting on a little stool playing with the corner of his dark jumper. He looked up, seeming bored as they entered the room and looked back down as if he were choosing to ignore them, though much to Alfons' surprise, slowly stood and held out his hand to Alfons.

"Edward Elric," he informed the taller blonde, looking into his soul with his oddly yellow eyes.

"Alfons Heiderich, pleased to meet you," he replied in German, hoping that Edward would understand what he was talking about.

"Er… Hallo." Edward responded, which made Alfons think that possibly he had no idea what he was talking about.

Hohenheim stepped between them and spoke to Edward.

"Edward, this is Alfons _Herderich_ and hopefully you can just stay with him, while I am away? Edward?"

Alfons tried not to be intrusive and just watched Edward glaring at his father like he was the most despicable person in the world. He nodded, once, bluntly at the man, gave Gracia a slightly 'rabbit-in-the-headlights' expression and pushed past Alfons up the stairs and slammed the door.

"Like I said, he's quite charismatic." Hohenheim added weakly.


	2. Hunger Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction of the characters and their environment.

Alfons opened the door to his flat after Edward and scanned the room with tired eyes. Now that he'd upped for all of this, he realised that he wasn't up for any shit that this kid could possibly give him, and approached the boy as such.

"Edward? Wo bist du? Edward?" Alfons walked past the table to see Edward standing by the door to his room looking like some kind of furnishing. Suddenly, the German became aware that the situation was incredibly awkward.

"Er… How is you?"

Edward continued to stare at him as if sizing him up. "Gut, danke." He said shortly, making it obvious who would be leading the conversation.

"Das ist mein zimmer…"

Edward looked at him blankly. He pointed at the door on his right, and then at Alfons. "Yours?" he asked. Alfons nodded, thanking that Edward seemed to have a bearable understanding of German. The last time Alfons had spoken English had been in school, and though he'd been good, he'd never _really_ learned the language, just a lot of complicated grammar rules.

"Sitzen?" he suggested, indicating the table beside him. Edward obviously got it, because he walked stiffly over and sat heavily. Alfons tried to work out how he could possibly be crippled while hurriedly tidying his papers from the table.

"Sie möchten Deutschland?" Alfons asked, as it was the only thing he could think to say. Edward just stared.

"Pardon?"

"Er… It's gut? Deutschland?" Edward's eyebrows raised in comprehension, but he just shrugged in answer. "Mmm." He said, noncommittally.

Alfons hoped that Mr Hohenheim would be coming back from wherever soon, because his son was turning out to be unbearable.

There was a long silence, through which Alfons stood with a stack of papers in his hands and Edward sat, staring at him unnervingly until, surprisingly, Edward spoke up.

"Alphonse?" he asked. Alfons was thrown. Was Edward translating his name, or… or what?"

"Alfons." The German corrected. "'F'"

"You are Alphonse Elric." Edward stated as if this were an obvious fact. Alfons was utterly confused by it however.

"Nein. Alfons Heiderich. Edward's father spoke." Shit that didn't come out right, he thought to himself, but Edward's comprehension skills were good enough to make up.

Edward kept holding his gaze with his sad, but calculating, clever eyes. Eventually, he looked down. "Pardon." He said again. "Pardon, Alfons Heiderich. Danke. Mein papa ist ein bastard."

Alfons laughed, though he really shouldn't. "Er schien angenehm." Alfons commented, remembering the man he saw. Not particularly doting, but a good man, and he seemed to like his son. And respect his personality.

"Pardon?"

"Are you searching for Entschuldigung?" Alfons asked, smiling slightly. He imagined that once he and Edward could understand one another, they might get along, but at the moment, things were strained.

"'Entschuldigung' ist 'sorry'?"

"Ja."

"Entschuldigung."

"Schon gut."

~*~ Charismatisch~*~

In the end, even though it had seemed rude, Alfons had sat down with a book, clearly indicating to Edward that his bookshelf was open to him. Edward was sitting at the other side of the room at the table with a dictionary. Not that it really helped, since it was just a normal dictionary, and the definitions were in German, but Edward seemed pretty confident that he could learn the language simply by reading a lot and guessing.

Alfons would have been quite happy to sit there and read until going to bed if Edward's stomach hadn't snapped him back to reality.

Alfons felt incredibly horrid and felt himself turn red as Edward's stomach continued to growl and Edward continued to ignore it completely. But then again, if Edward was hungry, he really should have said.

"Edward?" Edward looked up from his dictionary.

"You are um…" The English wouldn't come. Alfons scanned though his mind to try and find that word. Maybe he should have continued studying English instead of dropping it…

"Food," he substituted. 'Edward, you are food?" Shit. He sounded like an idiot.

"Ich bin hungrig," Edward agreed in perfect German. For someone who was clearly able to ignore his hunger, Alfons wondered why he had that phrase at his disposal.

Alfons mentally pictured his cupboards. Not much. Damn. Well, he hadn't been shopping lately, and Gracia had taken it upon herself to make sure that he didn't starve.

"Not much food, Edward, sorry."

"Why ask then?"

He had a point there. "Sorry."

"S-Schon gut?"

"Ja."

Edward smiled. New phrase for the book.

"Takeaway?"

Alfons was a little thrown by that. What he knew about English, that phrase didn't match anything to do with 'sorry' or food!

"Take me away?" Alfons took a blind stab.

Edward laughed. It was the first time Alfons had seen Edward laugh, and it was a pretty sight. Edward definitely suited laughing as opposed to sulking. He found himself hoping he could become the kind of person who would make Edward smile more often.

Edward wiped the tears from his eyes. "Take food away! Take the food out of the shop and eat it, silly! Like Chinese food, or Indian food!"

Alfons gave him a blank look. "Chinese food? Where?"

Edward whacked his forehead off the table.

"Never mind. Uncultured other world," he muttered.

Alfons didn't really get what Edward had just said, but it didn't sound like a compliment. He chose to ignore it.

"Kneipe?" Alfons asked, somewhat hopefully. Edward was sixteen, right?

"Ich bin HUNGRY. Food. You alcoholic."

Apparently Edward knew that word. Though in all fairness, he had just changed the subject from food to alcohol. Hmm…

"Edward like würstchen?"

Edward raised an eyebrow at him and went back to his dictionary, apparently deciding that he was not worth talking to. Alfons found himself quite offended and raised his voice more than he really needed to.

"Hay! Sausage! I mean sausage! You like?"

Edward shrugged. "Who doesn't?"

Alfons took that as a yes. Everybody liked sausages, right? Unless you were a vegetarian.

"Let us buy sausage." Alfons insisted; standing and so sort of forcing Edward to come along.

Edward tailed behind him, muttering something in English. Why did Alfons get the impression that Edward wasn't really English? He knew that he obviously was, since he spoke the language without an American accent. But he didn't really look very English. There was something a bit foreign about him. If it wasn't the eyes, Edward was very slightly tanned and just… Alfons felt like he was missing something.

"Where are you boys off to?" Gracia asked, having apparently heard them coming downstairs into the shop.

"We're going to buy some sausages," Alfons told her, smiling. The smile abruptly slid of his face when Gracia continued to stare at him.

"Alfons, it's Sunday. The shops aren't open at all, never mind at eight o'clock."

Apparently, Edward had got that, because he growled and punched the wall. It seemed he'd been looking forward to sausages.

Alfons, now quite embarrassed, also felt quite bad for Edward. Though really, if he'd had some warning, he would have gotten in some food! But Hohenheim had just turned up! Also, he wasn't Edward's father! Surely the boy could look after himself to some extent.

"Well…" Alfons started in an attempt to defend himself. Gracia cut him off however.

"If you guys are that desperate, I'm sure I could whip something up." She offered. Alfons was starting to think she actually enjoyed taking care of them, though he still felt bad for imposing. "I'm not actually hungry, but Edward's practically starving. I'm sure he'd appreciate the offer."

Edward had zoned out of the conversation and was wandering around the dark flower shop. He looked up at them when he heard his name. Ignoring the conversation topic, he pointed at some flowers.

"Flowers." He stated, requesting the translation.

"Blume." Gracia supplied. Edward them indicated the whole building.

"Shop." Gracia, again, translated.

"Blume Bestellen. Ich lebe in wohnung oben blume bestellen."

Gracia raised an eyebrow before approving. Edward gave a little self-satisfied smirk and muttered again in English. Alfons was beginning to think that Edward was thinking of the German language as an enemy to be defeated rather than something to be learned.

He exchanged a shrug with Gracia and followed her inside, gesturing for Edward to follow.

~*~ Charismatisch~*~

While Gracia made Edward his beloved sausages, Edward wandered around the front room pointing out random objects and demanding Alfons give him translations. Not only did Edward learn a lot of German, but Alfons inadvertently picked up lot of English.

Also, Alfons discovered why someone who could ignore his own bodily functions for so long would know how to say he was hungry. Edward practically inhaled all of the sausages that Gracia owned, and then, because he didn't have to cook it, an awful lot of cheese.

They would make a point of going shopping tomorrow. He hoped that Edward's father took into consideration how much his son ate when sending Edward money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN from 14 yr old me - edited to be relevent: (Thank you everyone who reviewed/favourited/alerted! Much appreciated.
> 
> Goddamn, I'm really busy, I have four big tests coming up - I was supposed to be doing biology revision.
> 
> Also, I will be using Google Translate, because I don't speak nearly enough German to not use it. So some translations might be slightly off.
> 
> I didn't initially mean for these to be consecutive, but I didn't want to really skip out on their first conversation. I hope you approve of the layout and how the languages were handled.)
> 
> Thanks for reading - Hope you enjoy the next chapter


	3. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (When I read back on this chapter I find it really corny but here I am putting it in to this version! If I were re-writing this whole thing it would be so much different!)

Alfons lay on his back in bed, worrying. The night was cold and sharp, and the old building did nothing to help the bitter wind that howled outside and rattled the windows. He wondered if it was strong enough to blow things over. Would there be trouble getting to work in the morning? He hoped not. The cold now, inside his house, in bed, was causing a sharp pain across his chest. He really didn't want to be out in it.

Alfons had never really perfected the art of ignoring the blind panic that came with not _really_ being able to breathe. He still over stepped his physical boundaries and tried to sigh every now and again, only to be felled by the tight sensation around his ribs that felt as if his torso had been bound tightly by a rope. And then that twinge would make him wince and cough sharply.

He'd been so busy with Edward, he'd forgotten all about the consumption.

Oh shit. Consumption!

He hadn't mentioned anything to either Edward or Hohenheim about his incredibly contagious, probably fatal, painful, disgusting disease. In fact, not even Gracia knew about it. He was such a prick really, putting all the people close to him in danger like that, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to put a distance between himself and the people he knew, to label himself, like some kind of leper whom no one would touch.

He was only eighteen! His life was short as it was! He didn't want to spend his few years before his disease ate away at him, homeless, friendless and alone. The thought terrified him, because he knew he belonged there.

Poor Edward. He'd been slightly against the kid at first, simply because he'd been in a bad mood, but he was alright, deep down. A little impulsive, and violent, it seemed, but a good guy. He was quirky, in a lot of ways, and Alfons often found himself laughing when he pronounced something German so wrong, that it sounded like another word, and then Edward being so embarrassed that he would argue _with the German_ claiming that the way he said it was right.

Also, it seemed that Edward's mother was nowhere to be seen. It was very possible that she was dead, though he'd never asked. Edward clearly wasn't partial to his father, and had been through a lot. You could tell just from his eyes.

Alfons allowed his mind to drift a little towards slightly more trivial things than the weight of his looming death-by-TB. Did Edward have papers? He hoped so. He didn't even know what nationality Edward was, though it would be nice if his father had taken care of that for him. He supposed things would be easier if he was English. Apparently, the Nazi's had deemed that a decent enough race. Alfons snorted. What was going to become of his country? Not that he could really rebel. He supposed that things wouldn't be too bad, as long as Edward wasn't Jewish, and his father had assured him that it wasn't the case. Alfons hoped that was true. He really didn't need that kind of shit.

Though it wasn't just the Jews the Nazi's were out to get. Any imperfection was a big deal. If it wasn't for the consumption, then Alfons was lucky to be in the perfect category, being Aryan and all. Alfons rolled onto his stomach. He really didn't want Edward taken away. He wouldn't wish that upon anyone.

Also, he needed to improve Edward's German, and soon. Not only was it a great annoyance, since they couldn't really get to know each other because of the language barrier, people would stare.

Alfons coughed into his pillow. No blood, just barking today. He huffed into the slightly-harder-than-satisfactory object and noticed that if he actually restricted his oxygen flow, the consumption induced shortness of breath was less noticeable. He lay face-down into his pillow for a good few hours before his mind cleared enough to allow him to sleep.

It wasn't long after that that he was jerked violently awake by a series of tormented screams. Trying to stop his heart from jumping out of his mouth, Alfons righted himself and tried to figure out what had happened. Who could be screaming? There was no one- oh, right. Edward.

Alfons sat in the cold blackness hugging his pillow with the blankets pooling around him, wondering what to do while Edward screeched, chocking out sobs in the other room. Should he go in, or wait for it all to pass?

About a minute later and Edward was still obviously trapped in what Alfons assumed to be a nightmare, and decided that he had to walk in Edward's personal space to avoid waking up the country.

He walked swiftly to Edward's room, the cold wooden floors nipping at his feet. He pulled his pyjama sleeves over his hands. It really was a cold night.

Gently, he pushed open the door to Edward's room, though all his noise was drowned out by Edward anyway. Through the faint moonlight struggling through the thin curtains, Alfons saw the faint outline of Edward, who was curled up right against the wall, almost falling down the side of the bed. His little form was curled up, with his back to the ceiling and he was screaming at the top of his lungs, one hand gripping his other shoulder.

Alfons stopped in his metaphorical tracks.

Where was Edward's other arm? In fact, on closer examination, Edward only had one leg, his thigh ended with some metal plate with a complicated series of indentations and wiring before his knee. Something clicked in Alfons' brain.

'Severely crippled.' So this was what Edward's father had meant. Edward must have two prosthetics; though Edward had appeared to have full use of his arm and leg. He'd have to enquire later. For now, Edward seemed to be being murdered in his sleep.

Alfons wondered how he should go about this delicate procedure. He didn't want to startle Edward, and yet, he'd better wake him up quickly before Gracia came knocking.

Alfons crawled onto Edward's bed and wrapped his arms around his torso, attempting to pull him from between the wall and the bad before he fell. Edward proved to be heavier than he looked, and also, Alfons wasn't particularly muscular so this proved a difficult task. However, Alfons put his back into it and tugged Edward back onto the bed. During the process, it seemed Edward had half woken up and proceeded to cling to Alfons with his one arm and leg. For a person lacking in the limb department, Edward was incredibly strong and held Alfons in something like a death grip. Also, he was incredibly bony, sweaty and wriggly. Alfons would rather not be hugging him, but managed to free an arm from his strong grasp and pat the younger teen awkwardly on the head. While this tactic worked in the sense that Edward was -quieter, now Alfons could understand what he was saying, to a certain extent.

"Please don't kill me. I don't want to die," the younger sobbed to Alfons, who tried to work out what these words meant. He got the general idea. Something about being against dying, but he wasn't quite exact, he knew.

Who would want to kill Edward? Alfons wondered, continuing to pat his head at the weird angle.

"Es ist nu ein schlecht traum, Edward. Aufwachen."

Edward completely ignored him. He was still quite asleep. He looked up at Alfons, though it was as if his eyes were gummed together. Alfons supposed that he was _trying_ to wake up, and him talking in German probably didn't mean anything.

He didn't know the English for dream, but he could hazard at wake up.

"Stop sleeping," Alfons sort of commanded hopefully, knowing that it wasn't quite the right wording, but made enough sense.

Edward just nutted him in the chest. Alfons was thankful he was taller, or that would have been his jaw. He just sat there for a while, since he couldn't free himself until Edward either woke up, or stopped half-dreaming and waited until he was free to go back to his own bed and sleep. At least Edward was somewhat less noisy, he supposed, and his little sobs and whispered pleas wouldn't carry, but then again, he'd probably already done enough damage as it was.

Eventually, Edward seemed to wake briefly, and then fall immediately back asleep, becoming even more of a dead weight. Alfons' legs were asleep now, but at least he could move his arms. He hauled Edward's limp body off him with a sigh of relief and lay him back down. After throwing the covers back over him, Alfons turned to leave before he felt a wave of guilt. He couldn't just leave Edward to be eaten by nightmares again, surely? For some reason, he felt some kind of parental duty to stay there and watch him, and though it was a bit of an odd thought, he found himself obeying. It was only when Alfons was comfortable, but not too close to Edward to make things seem odd, and too far gone to sleep to turn back, and yet not quite without his sense, that he remembered the consumption.

Shit.

 


	4. Rudimentary Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfons attempts to explain the political position of Germany to Edward - with a language barrier.

Edward was certainly different, or was it that, he'd been acting differently, and now he was himself? Alfons supposed that was probably true. It was clear what had caused it. Edward couldn't pretend to be so untouchable and tough after that night. It was clear that he had plenty of weaknesses, but as Alfons had tried to explain to Edward, it was your weaknesses that made you stronger.

Of course, it was very difficult to translate anything meaningful into English, so Edward never got that message.

Not that things between them had changed that drastically, like, Edward didn't get shy or refuse to talk to him. He just stopped being so brash and looked at him in that funny, wistful way a little more often.

And then Alfons remembered something that Edward had said when they'd first met.

"Alphonse Elric?" he asked, next time he caught Edward in the act. "You are wondering Alphonse Elric?"

Edward was evidently surprised, but he didn't seem to show evident surprise like everyone else. His eyebrows shot up, and that was it. After a moment of stammering, he finally dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.

"Ja. I was thinking about him. You look the same."

Alfons thought that he understood what was being said, but wondered anyway. He looked like Alphonse Elric? Was that why Edward looked at him like that?

"Who is Alphonse Elric? Family?"

Edward stared at the table, looking downcast.

"Brother."

"Small Bruder."

"Little Bruder." Edward paused for a moment. "But taller," he added, and smiled slightly.

"Higher?"

"Ja."

Alfons always found it oddly amusing that when Edward was sure of a word, he'd just use it randomly, not even attempting to say the rest of the sentence in German.

"You… you miss? Er ist gone?"

Edward nodded sadly. A thought struck Alfons which made him feel a little bit awful.

"Er ist gestorben?"

"Gestorben?"

Alfons made a rather crude hand gesture of running his hand across his throat. "Gestorben."

"Dead?"

"Yes."

Edward shook his head, but he still looked incredibly sad. "Nicht Gestorben. But gone."

Alfons vaguely wondered how to say 'Will you get him back' in English while Edward kept staring at him, but it a marginally better way. Like this time, he was actually looking at Alfons and thinking of Alfons, not his brother.

"Was ist diese?" he asked, totally randomly, pulling at the front of his own shirt. Alfons looked down.

"Diese?" He asked, pulling at his braces.

"Ja."

"Er…" How did you translate _that_? Assuming Edward wanted a translation. He might just actually not know what they were. "Hosenträger."

Edward stared at him a little more, and then stood up; lifted up that goddamn muscle vest he always wore and pointed at the leather running around his waist. "Belt," he told Alfons. "Get one."

~*~Charismatisch~*~

After he'd demanded that Edward dressed in proper clothes (turning down leather trousers) so that in the end, Edward ended up wearing a white shirt, trousers and a vest, which he kept complaining about because 'what was the point of a jumper with no sleeves!'

After Edward looked respectable, he dragged him out the house and took him on something of a sightseeing tour, but it felt more like he was guiding around a clueless exchange student.

"Was das?" He asked, pointing at a car.

"Ein Auto."

"A car."

"Das auto est parkend auf der…" Edward stopped and indicated the road. Alfons rolled his eyes a little. He felt like some kind of service.

"Straße."

"Das auto est parkend auf der Straße vor der bibliothek."

Alfons clapped rather sarcastically, though Edward did look pleased with himself. Edward pointed at the library. "Bibliothek. Wer gehen in." He commanded, striding towards it purposefully.

Alfons shrugged and followed. Edward did love his books. He doubted they'd be able to pass any book shop, so he mentally modified his route so that they passed as few as possible. It was getting annoying.

"You are talking good," Alfons commented, wandering idly behind Edward as he strode purposefully around the shop. They found themselves in the geography section and Edward pulled down an atlas, a book on the geography of Germany and a German to English dictionary. It was only afterward that Alfons realised that Edward seemed to be making things hard for himself on purpose when translating, since there had been English to German dictionaries there too.

About two paces from the counter, Edward turned expectantly to Alfons. "You have a library card, right?" He asked, though Alfons was more than slightly lost.

"A card, to get books? You have one? Buch, ja?"

"Ja," agreed Alfons. They were indeed books.

"Nehmen buch haus?"

"…Ja." Why was Edward asking if he could take the books home? This was a library! Of course he was allowed- Oh…

Alfons pulled out his wallet and removed his library card, showing it to Edward. "Dies?"

"Ja," snapped Edward, who was, for some reason unknown to Alfons, pissed off. He yanked the card from the elder with his free hand and placed the books on the counter.

Alfons left the shop with Edward, replaying the conversation and feeling slightly offended that Edward hadn't just expected him to have a library card. He was a student, and a self-proclaimed book worm. Though, then again, was that really the kind of thing he should be worrying about now?

The two young men wandered aimlessly, Alfons taking lead and pointing out things occasionally to translate for Edward, and telling him where he was. Edward seemed only half listening though. After a while, he piped up.

"Was dies?" he asked, pointing at a shop window. The shop looked closed for the day, and Alfons' eyes flicked up to the shop name.

"Buch bestellen," he said. Surely Edward could have worked that out?

"Nein," Edward continued to point at the shop window. "Dies."

On the outside of the shop window was a six pointed star drawn crudely in white tape. Alfons raised his eyebrows.

"Jude." Alfons said blankly, and continued walking. Edward lowered his pointing hand but continued to stare at the shop long enough so that he had to run to catch up with Alfons, who was already at the end of the street.

"Abwarten!" Edward shouted, before he lost him, careful not to drop the heavy library books in his arms. "Alfons."

"Den mund halten!" Alfons hissed sharply. Edward was effectively silenced; slightly shocked at the harsh behaviour of the polite man he shared a flat with.

Alfons walked swiftly back, and since Edward had considerably shorter legs, he had to almost run to keep up. Neither spoke, though Edward was bursting with questions, and finally, once they'd made it up the stairs and shut the flat door, Edward dared to speak. It wasn't like he was scared of Alfons - he wasn't a scary person. It was the whole reaction, and he wondered if it was something tabooed. Was this something to do with the war his father had mentioned?

"Alfons. Was war das?" He asked, slightly breathless from jogging home and carrying the heavy books. He dumped them on the table and kicked off his shoes by the door. "Jude. Was ist das?"

Alfons didn't speak. He coughed slightly, but refused to open his mouth, as if doing so would bring out his insides. After he won the metaphorical battle with his diaphragm, he stood straight and took Edward's atlas from the stack on the table. "Come," he said, nodding to the table and sitting himself, opening the heavy book to a map of Europe. He pointed at a green place squished betweed a pink place called 'Polen' and a yellow place called 'Frankreich'.

"Deutschland." Alfons stated. "Germany."

Edward nodded, wondering what this had to do with the star. He then pointed at a little island away from the mainland containing Germany.

"England." He told Edward, who was now getting the geographic relation between England and Germany, but still not seeing where the star came into this, nor the way Alfons had reacted.

Alfons turned the page to a map of Germany, not that he needed the map to illustrate his point, but it just helped.

"Führer von Deurschland ist Adolf Hitler," Alfons told him. Edward nodded. Okay, so they were being ruled by Hitler. He thought to himself that whatever Germany was up against, it couldn't be worse than Bradley, so he took Alfons' explanation with an eyebrow raised.  Alfons reached for a sheet of note paper and pen. On the paper he drew a stick man with a severe haircut and a toothbrush moustache. On the line above, he wrote Adolf Hitler.

Edward smirked. He knew this guy! When you drew it like that, yeah, he was on posters all over the place.

Alfons ran a hand through his hair, making at stand on end. "Ja…" he muttered to himself, wondering how he was going to go about this. It was difficult enough to explain in the first place, without having a language barrier. He considered using Edward's dictionary, but couldn't be bothered to have to look up every other word.

"Okay, Adolf Hitler nein mögen Jude," he said, drawing the star Edward had seen on the window. He quickly annotated it in German and English.

"Jew…" Edward muttered, tracing the star with his finger. "Why?"

He says they're thieves, thought Alfons, wondering how he was going to get all this across to Edward without making it horribly garbled and giving him the wrong idea. He says they're vermin, with no home to go to, and that they're poisonous, and stupid, but… that's not really so. He says he'll fix Germany, and make it a stronger country… How…? It hadn't happened yet. All that had happened was that he'd made it clear he wanted rid of every minority group and that he wished to create some kind on Aryan country. A single culture country, like Japan or something.

He sighed and wrote 'Germany' and drew some hasty marks, and then crossed them out.

"Deutschland hat nein geld noch arbeit." He said, hoping that Edward would understand.

"No money…?" Edward said, slightly uncertain if he was getting this right. "No jobs?"

"Ja."

"Why?"

Alfons point blank refused to try to explain the Wall Street Crash to Edward right now, but promised he'd come back to it later. Edward agreed.

Alfons pointed at his crudely drawn Hitler again.

"Speaks to make Germany money and jobs," he said to Edward, thankful for those few words Edward had just supplied him with. "And to takeaway Jews."

Edward laughed a little at Alfons badly recalled use of the phrase 'take away.'

"Why?" He asked again. Why, to give Germany more money and jobs, would this Hitler guy decide to get rid of a certain race?

Alfons shrugged. Another thing he couldn't be bothered to go into right now. He personally hadn't voted, he hadn't been of age at the time, but he couldn't help thinking that the general population had been tricked. Surely this hadn't been the original plan?

"Also Hitler speaks to just have an…" how did he translate this…? "arisch people."

"Arisch?"

Though it made him feel awful somewhere in his stomach – though he didn't know why, it was simply how he was – Alfons indicated himself, more specifically his white-blonde hair and cyan eyes. "Arisch."

Edward made no indication that he understood, but Alfons got the feeling it was simply because things were getting serious.

"Hitler wants a country full of the same race, right? So what's he going to do with everyone else?"

Alfons shrugged. Edward was making him feel guilty, for some reason, and also, making him really doubt if Hitler and his army were really out to do any good. Swarming the street like cockroaches, seemingly not dangerous, but actually, you wouldn't want to get too close.

Edward was mulling over what he'd managed to get of what Alfons had said to him. This place was really screwed up, if that was the case. So, Germany had no jobs (something to do with another war, he recalled) and because of something hard to explain, had no money, and so this guy came along and just told them he was going to fix it all. Ha. Edward was a bit annoyed that this country had fallen for that, because this Hitler guy sounded like a total madman, though he supposed in their situation… Hitler was powerful, and they were desperate, but… wasn't that power kind of being abused?

And then a daunting thought struck him.

If Hitler was creating a country of one perfect race, where did he come in?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original AN; (I think I got Hosenträger right. Because in England, braces are the things on your teeth, and the things you hold your trousers up with and suspenders are the things women hold their stockings up with. But since Google is American, it gets confused when I type in braces, but I am wondering in which way does German translate? To braces (UK) or to suspenders (UK)!  
> Oh, and to touch upon the subject of me aging Alfons, I wanted him to be of age, legally. Since 18 or below is the legal age almost everywhere (and 21 was too old) I went for 18.  
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I think the World War from Germany's point of view is – of course really sad – but really interesting as well. I had to do a history assessment about Hitler's reign from the POV of a German and then whether, given the circumstances, I'd vote or not, and I really wanted to do this, but I left it to late and didn't have the time.  
> See you next time!  
> ~BS)
> 
> (Wow 21 doens't seem so old now that I'm 18!) Thanks for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was 14 but I still think it's one of the best things I've ever written, 4 years on. Never the less, I'm going to take a cursory glance through each chapter to check for errors or areas that I can easily improve. In my opinion, I got into my stride at about the halfway mark where I started trying to use literary technique other than German-as-a-representation-of-a-language-barrier trick so... There's improvement later


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